


Kronos and Krycek

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series, The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-05
Updated: 1999-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:14:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G





	Kronos and Krycek

Sometimes they don't give you a whole hell of a lot. Sometimes it's just a name, sometimes an address, and sometimes it's just someone who might know something. Of course they might not know something, but usually once they're implicated there are ways of getting what I want.

This one was just a contact, and an unwilling one at that. I almost lost control and broke his jaw, but they tend to frown on that when they want information. I controlled myself and broke his fingers instead.

He had been a stubborn one, too. I don't think it was out of love or loyalty; those were usually the first ones to crack. I mean, what's friendship when parts of your body are being sliced off. I should know that more than anyone.

No, this guy was different, very different. He was a nobody, and at least had the sense to know it, but the warehouse job had gone off too smoothly, too easily. There had been an insider helping the guns to disappear. That poor sap had been stupid enough to buy a washer and dryer with cash on the regular market, and they summoned me.

It was always the stupid ones. The contact hadn't broken for an hour, which meant who ever he was protecting had him scared worse. I respected that. I knew how that felt, too. I try not to go for the gonads until after I try other means if only because sniveling makes me sick to my stomach. Also, I know how I find controlling myself a challenge when the man with the answers to my questions is on his hands and knees begging and pissing himself.

Not that I haven't begged before, either. I guess it's true; we hate in other people what we hate in ourselves.

For all that trouble I got an address. It was another warehouse in the middle of nowhere in France. The security of the building was impressive. I took an extra day researching the alarm system, and even then I wasn't exactly sure I managed to cut all the redundant wires backing up the system. When I get home I plan on buying stock in the company. Recommending it to all my friends.

The thought made me laugh. What friends? Him, of course, but he was off in Santa Fe doing God knows what. We don't exactly bring our work home. Well, there was that once, but the body was in the trunk of my car and I promptly buried it the next morning. We had second row seats to the game and he didn't want to be late.

The door finally swung open, and I took a moment to take pride in my work. No one else was around to do it, at least. The warehouse was quiet and empty beyond the half dozen crates. I read the Russian label for boom-boom and admired my clients even more. They only bothered stealing the best.

The two private doors were unmarked and unlocked. I glanced to the one down the hall, but my gut said the first one. I crossed the checkered pattern of moonlight and slowly screwed the silencer onto my gun. It was a practiced motion, just one of the dozens of things my physiotherapist neglected to teach me. I adapt.

The door creaked slightly as I opened it, and then took my gun back from under my chin. The man sleeping in the bed faced me. I froze, but it only took a heartbeat to see that the eyes moving under the lids were firmly in REM sleep.

The scar surprised me, and I guess I hesitated, thinking about how he got it. He was very lucky the eye remained. The rest of his face was angular and hard. Most men looked innocent when they slept; this one didn't.

And then something poked my side. It was too small to be a banana and too large for a pencil, which only left one thing. I hadn't even heard the second man approach.

"Well, this is the first time too much beer saved my life. Drop the gun or I will shoot you. If by shooting you I wake my brother up, I will become very upset. You don't want that."

I had never been threatened by such a cultured accent before. The voice was cold and most definitely earnest so it wasn't difficult taking the threat seriously. I was going to drop the gun, but thought the clatter might wake up cultured boy's sleeping brother. I bent down and placed it on the floor. "Good. Kneel down," the man demanded.

I sat back on my heels as the man stepped past me. His worn jeans casually done up low on his hips set off the runner's thighs and perfect ass. My favourite combination. Mulder in nothing but jeans was one of my biggest turn-ons. And the man's back didn't have a mark or blemish on it as it tapered off to snake hips. I shook my head. I was involved with someone, not dead. Yet, at least.

"Wake up, brother. We're having company," the first man said. His head cocked to one side, exposing his cheekbone to the ray of moonlight. It was angular and sharp, and the shadow cast over the hollow of his cheek. An Adonis had captured me, but they usually were the most sadistic. I resisted an urge to rub my cheek; the one Mulder used to take such a delight beating on. Still does, occasionally. Different motivation, though.

Adonis left me with my gun at my knee, and then turned his back. His own gun rubbed absently against his thigh. I suppose I could have shot him, but the man on the bed would have been a crap shoot either way.

A heartbeat after Scar's eyes opened, he was on his feet with a fucking sword. A real weird one with all kinds of shit on the hand thing. All thoughts of the gun ended as I put my hand up. Adonis turned to look at me for the first time, and his face was perfect for the rest of his body. It was harsh without being as hard as the man in the bed was, but there were amusement lines along the side of his mouth. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't think of anything.

Scar man stared down at the false arm, and it took him a moment to realize that while it was a part of me, it wasn't attached. He glanced to Adonis who nodded and sprawled back on the bed. The roles were established, and Adonis was just going to watch.

Which was really too bad. I found myself hoping that he'd be the one torturing me. "What's your name?" Scar asked, coming up to me. I could smell the animalness to him. This was not a man accustomed or willing to control himself. He was obviously crazy, but the most dangerous kind of insanity. He could function and prosper and still be stark raving mad.

It was a fairly innocent question and the usual one to start with. There was no need to lie to him. "Krycek," I said. Having to look up at him exposed my throat too much, so I glanced over to the man sprawled on the bed. He was way too accustomed to his brother's bed, and I began to wonder exactly what kind of relationship I had stumbled into.

Scar caught me staring. "He's attracted to you, brother," the man said, and then backhanded me across the cheek. I fell forward, balanced on one hand, and looked up, bitterly at the man who struck me. "Keep your eyes off him, he's mine. What is your name?"

"Alex," I allowed, rubbing the side of my face. I always forget between backhands exactly how much they sting. I'd almost prefer a punch or a head-butt. I hate giving away my first name, because it usually meant that people would use it. It was too personal. Not even Mulder called me Alex, and I was fucking him.

"So, Alex. How did you find us?" Scar asked, conversationally.

The question actually relieved me. It was one I could answer. The question I hated was 'who sent you', because, of course, there was no exact answer. And no matter how much the sap in Russia had been afraid of Scar and Adonis, it was nothing to what the Consortium would do if they got a hold of what Scar left intact. There would be nothing left of me to send back to good old mom.

"Your insider at the warehouse," I said. That was going to be common knowledge if it wasn't already. He must have been reported missing by now if not the body actually found. "He rolled on you." And then over a cliff, but I didn't say that.

"I see. And how did you get him to tell you about this place?" Scar asked. He ran his knuckles over the spot he hit a moment before, and I looked up, startled. There was something sexual about the caress, it was too knowing. Adonis sat up on the bed, and I could hear his breathing change. The room dynamics altered.

"A bit of this..." I said, letting my voice trail off slightly. It wasn't modesty, just professional secrets.

Scar backhanded me again. It must have taken him practice to get the exact position right. My head snapped back and I bit my tongue. I swore, and Scar was kind enough to let me spit out the blood in my mouth before raising his hand again.

"I broke every bone in his left hand and then started cutting off fingers on his right," I said, not looking up. I really hate giving people ideas.

Scar's hand traveled to my one good arm, and I shifted it behind me trying to make the motion look like I wasn't all that threatened. I could do my job one-handed, but the idea of losing another one terrified me. I'd lose whatever control I had in my life.

Scar noticed it immediately. He motioned me to give him my hand, and I did so rather than risk it. He pulled off my glove, and began massaging the fleshy bit between my thumb and my forefinger. He pulled out a boot knife. The blade on it was almost six inches, and I pulled away as far as I could. "It wasn't an easy amputation, was it?" Scar asked, glancing down to the sleeve of my jacket. "Did they make it worth your while?"

I pulled back harder, but Scar's grip was cutting off circulation. It made the cold blade seem even colder as the flat of it pressed against my flesh. When he sliced me I bled more from a paper cut, but the thin line of blood fascinated me. It had been so deliberate. In any other situation I would have been taking notes. The man was a master at this.

"And the alarm system?" Scar whispered. He went back to massaging the flesh, smearing the blood with his thumb. When his skin came into direct contact with the cut itself the salt on his skin hurt for an instant, and then was gone by the time the finger moved on.

He met my eyes for the first time, and I was hypnotized. I know that sounds cliched, but the man's eyes were so disturbed, so...alluring I couldn't help parting my lips despite the knife threatening my one and only hand remaining.

"And the alarm system?" Scar asked.

"Research. They'll give you anything over the phone with the right credentials," I said.

Scar smiled. "I knew there was a weakness," he said.

Adonis stood up, stretching. "I'll get to work on it tomorrow," he said.

I tried not to look at the way Adonis' chest moved as he worked his muscles. I've seen housecats with less grace. Scar caught me staring and touched my nose. "I warned you," he said, but his voice sounded amused. "Lock him in the bathroom for the night, we can deal with him in the morning," Scar said to his brother.

I tried to pull away from Adonis as he grabbed my shoulder, but the grip firmed on my shoulder. "You aren't going to kill me?" I asked. They might be able to ignore it, but I thought it was an essential question. Scar went back to bed and the other man escorted me out into the hall.

Adonis laughed for the first time. "Kill you? I'd sooner break a stained glass window. You've even impressed Kronos, and that takes effort."

"Don't you want to know who sent me?" I demanded.

"Would you tell us?" Adonis asked, not stopping.

"No," I said. And meant it.

"Then what would be the point?" Adonis asked, and then pushed me into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and locked, and I was left alone.

The bathroom was functional, and not much else. The shower stall was clean and but the floor was nothing but concrete. They had a single towel hanging over the hook, which I spread on the ground and sat on, leaning against the brick walls.

They weren't going to kill me. That relieved me somewhat without putting my fears to rest. Mulder's plane would be landing back in D.C. at the end of the week, and I didn't want him to go home to an empty apartment. And knowing what they weren't going to do didn't give me any more clues about what they were. I knew a lot more fates worse than death.

Besides the two hours sleep I stole over the manuals last night; I hadn't slept at all in almost three days. Sitting still was enough to make my head too heavy to sit on the top of my neck. Twice I felt my body falling back into sleep despite the dripping from the tap, the chill leaking through the towel from the floor and my own worries. The third time I didn't even try to break surface and let myself drift off to sleep.

I woke to the sound of a man pissing. It took a heartbeat to realize it wasn't on me, so I stopped worrying. I opened my eyes and groaned at the crick in my neck.

"Sleep well?" Scar...Kronos asked, flushing the toilet and then washed his hands. I had to move my neck to see him, and the pain was an ice pick in my joints. The harness holding my arm to me chafed during the night, and it started to itch my stump.

I didn't answer, and suddenly Kronos was crouched in my space. What kind of stupid-ass name is Kronos, any way? I pressed against the wall as Kronos touched my leather jacket for a moment, and then stood and yanked it off.

It took a moment of tugging to pull the jacket away from my arms. I could get my good arm out, but the prosthetic got caught up and almost yanked my shoulder out with it. Kronos yanked up the sleeve to my T-shirt and stared at the break between my arm and the rest of it. For a moment his face was expressionless, and then he slowly reached out and touched the stump.

My stomach turned. Half the time I couldn’t even look at it. Hell, I still have problems with Mulder wanting to see me naked. The disgust and anger I felt every single time I went to pick up something with my left hand won’t go away, and having this man...fondle it, made me sicker to my stomach.

"Who did this?" Kronos finally asked.

I shrugged, no longer having the energy to even try to jerk away. My head hurt and my body shook with anger. "Them," I said, banging my head against the wall. They hadn’t held the knife, but they put me there.

"How crude," Kronos said, and fingered the jagged scars left by the heated knife. "Did it work?"

"It took my arm off well enough," I snapped, knowing that wasn’t what was asked.

Kronos’ other hand tightened on my wrist. "But did it keep you in line?"

I looked up. Did it? It slowed me down some, but they still used me. They even ignored my thing with Mulder because it was easier than forcing me to stop, and I knew what they'd have to cut off for me to end that. I looked down, and Kronos didn't push it for once.

Kronos looked down at me, and I saw something in his eyes. He was angry, but I knew it wasn't at me. I parted my lips to dismiss his concern, but Kronos moved the rest of the way into my space to kiss me. I jerked back, and Kronos followed me to the wall. I wasn't afraid, just startled. Kronos' mouth was not used to giving pleasure; he just took me. I had forgot what it was like to be taken. Kronos pulled back for a second, and I couldn't stop my hand reaching up to touch to scar on Kronos' face. Kronos turned to the touch for a moment, and I scraped my nail in the valley of his skin. Kronos caught my hand, squeezing it hard. "Let me see it," Kronos said, but started to tug on the buckles holding it in place.

I balked. I couldn't. Not even if Kronos held a sword to my head. Kronos wasn't listening to my barely vocalized protests. The second buckle released, and Kronos pulled the false arm away. I pulled away, trying to scramble back, but I couldn't move away from Kronos pinning me to the wall. I put my hand on his chest, pushing as hard as I could.

Kronos just laughed, and snatched my hand up. "You don't," he said. I looked up, angry for the first time, but realized I didn't have any choice in this. Kronos smiled at me, lifting my chin for another kiss. "Do you want this to be business or pleasure?" he asked.

He did know me. Or at least knew who I was. I looked away as Kronos touched what they left me, and it didn't make my skin crawl as badly as I thought it might. Not that it would matter at all. Kronos was taller than I was, stronger, and more vicious. "Pleasure," I said, meeting his eyes. I wondered which one would hurt more.

Kronos tried to grab my hair, but it wasn't long enough for purchase. He had to settle for my shoulder. He grabbed me, throwing me on my hand and knees. I lost my balance and fell hard on my stump. Kronos waited for me to right myself, and must have realized he couldn't take me like a dog. He pulled back for a moment, staring at me hard.

"It'd be easier on me if it wasn't on the floor in the bathroom," I said, remembering myself. I had been through worse. I even managed to pull my lips back in a deliberate pseudo-smile. Kronos glanced at me and nodded.

I licked my lips once, and Kronos grabbed me again and hauled me to my feet. He left my arm against the shower stall, and marched me back to his room. Adonis was gone, but I hadn't seen that roll of half-rolled up lube when I broke in here the night before.

Kronos picked the tube up and looked at me. "On your back," he ordered.

I wanted him naked, too. I grabbed his T-shirt and tugged on it. "This off," I said.

Kronos laughed and the sound brought his brother into the room. "Do you need any help, brother?" Adonis asked.

"Methos. Just in time. I think this one has decided to be difficult."

Methos glanced at me, and saw the stump. He looked at me again, and I saw pity in his face. He crossed the floor and took my T-shirt in his hands. "I don't think so," he said, and yanked the cotton shirt over my head. I lifted my arm to help, and Methos touched just above the stump. I pulled away, and he let me go.

Kronos moved behind me, running his hands over my hips and down into the front of my jeans. I leaned against him, stretching out as much as I could, and grunted as Kronos threw me over the bed. I had a lot of practice flipping over with only one arm, and sat up before Kronos expected it. I tugged at Kronos' T-shirt. "I want this off," I said again.

"That's not being difficult, brother," Methos said, "Merely spirited."

Methos threw me at Kronos, who busied himself with undoing my jeans, but I had had enough of being the passive victim in all of this. I leaned towards Kronos for a moment, and felt his reaction against the small of my back. Kronos pushed against me harder, and I grabbed the back of his neck with my hand and flipped Kronos over my shoulder. He landed on the bed, and I moved over him. My hand was over his throat, and I felt him swallow.

Methos laughed behind me, and I didn't fight as Kronos knocked me off, flipping me over to my back. I thought I had made my point. Kronos yanked off my jeans and dropped them to the floor. I couldn't read him well enough to know if he was angry or just annoyed, but winced as he squirted a large dollop of gel onto his fingers. I grunted as two fingers shoved inside me, stretching me. That was all the preparation I got.

Kronos parted my thighs again, and shoved himself inside me. It was painful, and I gritted my teeth as his balls slammed against me. Each thrust was a way of establishing dominance, and I had a difficult time trying to breathe normally as he fucked me.

Methos moved over me, face flushed. I parted my lips, inviting him to join. It was my body after all. Kronos might have forgotten that, but I hadn't. Methos didn't even undress; he just undid his jeans and pushed himself down my throat.

I couldn't do much with Kronos still thrusting against me, but choking around Methos' length seemed to turn him on more. Methos' thighs pressed against my ears as he grabbed my hair and thrust himself down my throat. I cough again yanking away from his hands and established my own rhythm. Kronos smeared more of the gel over me, and started jerking me off in time with his thrusts.

My grunts were lost in Methos' pubic hair. I couldn't imagine Mulder ever being this physical with me. I was a body for them. My saliva coated my chin and started to dry as I couldn't help drooling and I didn't care. I closed my eyes and let it happen.

They felt me give up control. I felt Methos shudder as Kronos invaded his space, and could hear the sucking sounds above me. Kronos' hand didn't falter against my cock. I couldn't help it. The feeling of being battered from both ends made the muscles in my thighs tighten and Kronos didn't stop his hand as I came onto my belly. My muscles clenched against him almost unwillingly, and he groaned in protest. He grabbed my ankles, yanking them to the end of the bed and tried to bend me in half. Methos' cock pulled away from me, and I struggled to take it back in, but Methos moved off me and started to stroke himself. Kronos was close, and the smile on his face was pure indulgence. It made me wonder about the two of them all over again.

Kronos grabbed my hips tighter, and hunched over me. I began deliberately clenching against him, trying to drive him over, but he was taking his time. He slammed against me a final time, and then closed his eyes. Methos grunted, and the first rope of come hit me across the bridge of my nose. I squeezed my eyes shut out of reflex, and my body flushed as my balls tightened. Kronos squeezed me and I was helpless in his hands. Kronos kept stroking me even after I came until the sensation became almost painful on my sensitive cock. I groaned, trying to curl up.

They laughed. It happened so quickly, I don't know who started it. Kronos slapped my thigh like he would a barnyard animal and pulled away, leaving the room.

Methos looked down at me and touched my cheek. I hadn't even realized my eyes had tears in them until Methos wiped one with his finger and sucked on it. "Go wash up."

I looked at him. It could have been the post-coitus blues, but suddenly dread lapped at me. "Let me go," I said.

Methos just smiled at me. It looked kind enough, but there was something to his eyes that chilled me. "If it starts to dry it's going to be tougher to wash off," he said and left me.

I had as long of shower as the hot water would allow, and picked up my towel from last night to dry off. I forced myself not to think about being trapped. I'd been trapped before. I had always found a way out. This was just another setback. That didn't help my heart rate at all. Naked, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my stump, but I couldn’t keep looking at it. It was as struggle to reattach the arm alone, but I felt better once it was a part of me again.

They gave me the freedom of the warehouse, but all the doors were locked from the inside, I checked as surreptitiously as possible. They knew, of course, but didn't say anything about it.

Methos spent the day redirecting the wires in the security alarm, and I watched him work over his shoulder. Kronos kept on the computer the entire day but when I looked to him, he stared back at me. He had that half-starved wolf look about him and I didn't want to be his next meal.

Neither one of them actually talked to me, which was quite unnerving. Not that the entire situation wasn’t unnerving enough. When they ate they fed me, when they worked they watched me, and they basically ignored my existence.

The windows finally darkened, and I couldn’t help the yawn. Kronos glanced at me. "You are with me tonight," he said, and went back to his computer screen.

I stared at him, but he wouldn’t look up again. I had been dismissed. Methos glanced to me, and I saw him smile again.

I went to the bathroom, noticing how grimy my clothes were. It felt better to be without them then have them against my skin a moment longer.

Kronos leaned against the doorframe. I jumped, not knowing how long he had been standing there. "You’re awfully young to be that callused," he said finally.

"What’s it to you?"

Kronos straightened up, staring at my gloved, plastic hand. He was trying to make me feel uncomfortable but I didn’t let it work. "Me? Nothing. I have a lot of respect for bear-cubs," Kronos said and took a step forward.

He went to touch my cheek, and I batted it away. "When am I getting out of here?"

The slap made him smile. "All in good time, little cub," he whispered. He moved into my space again. "Would you like to play rough?"

I tried to hit him, but he twisted out of the way, grabbed my arm and yanked it behind my back. He wrapped his other arm around me and thrust his pelvis against me. He held me like that for a moment and let me go.

I took two steps and turned around, but refused to look away as Kronos invaded my space again. "I didn’t enjoy that," he said, softly. His left hand batted mine away easily and his right hand closed over my throat. I didn’t look away as Kronos’ hand tightened and I refused to fight him.

His hand opened up enough to let me breathe. "Tell me what you want," he ordered.

"Let me go," I managed. At that moment I didn't care if he meant out of the warehouse or out of his grip.

The hand clawed at my throat, and I fought back. My knee jerked, and I caught him in the unprotected balls. He let me go for an instant and I jumped over him to get away. His hand grabbed my ankle and yanked. I fell forward, twisting, but the hand was iron against my leg. I kicked out, angry at how close I had almost made it.

Kronos held me for a long time before even attempting to stand up. He grabbed me, throwing me against the wall and carefully placed his own knee against my groin. I closed my eyes, expecting the pain, but all he did was rub my cock through my jeans.

I think I would have preferred the pain. "Do you think you could get away?" Kronos asked. The knee pressed in hard for a second and then went back to its gentle nudging. His fingers still dug into my jugular vein. Kronos smiled easily, daring me to respond.

"Eventually," I said, and winced as the fingers dug in harder. The bruise was going to be spectacular.

"Over my dead body," Kronos hissed. "I'm beginning to think I've misjudged you. You don't want me to misjudge you, little cub."

I fought, twisting to get away, but the knee slammed against me, and his free hand caught my wrist. He pinned me to the wall. Kronos let me struggle, dropping the knee long enough to use his pelvis instead. He ground against me as I fought and I could feel his erection poking me. I was doing exactly what he wanted, but couldn't help myself.

"Yes, squirm. Fight me, come on," Kronos said, and then opened his eyes, looking at me. He spread his thighs wider, trapping me with them too, and just began to thrust. The contact against my own cock was maddening. I didn't realize my jaw was open until I grunted and it almost came out as a whine. I didn't want this, I repeated to myself, but that didn't help the ache. The flush started in the small of my back and I broke out in sweat trying to fight it.

Kronos just laughed, pressing his forehead against mine. His hand on my throat slid down my body and cupped my ass in a better position and ground himself against me. He pressed me so hard against the wall. His breath on my cheek was hot and moist. I wanted to turn away from it, but there was no where to go. He froze, licking my lips, and then smiled.

For a heartbeat I thought he was stopping this, but then I realized it was just part of the torture. My body was close enough to coming that the sudden stop of stimulus almost made my belly cramp. "What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

"Move," Kronos hissed.

I refused to struggle against him, knowing that was what he and my cock wanted. "No," I said, turning against him as much as I could.

The hand over my wrist tightened enough that I knew it was going to break, and his head butted me against the wall. Even his chest pressed against me harder, but his pelvic bone drew back. The cold air against my groin where Kronos had been should have helped the erection subside, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Against my will I tried to arch my back so that I could touch him again, but he kept himself out of reach. "Beg."

I looked at him, saw the darkness in his eye. He was trying to make me feel ashamed. I took a deep breath, staring back. Better men had put me to shame. There was nothing left for Kronos to have. I angled my body to touch his groin, but he kept me to the wall. "I said 'beg'," Kronos hissed.

I parted my lips, jerking my hips against him. "Please," I said, keeping my voice flat, denuded of emotion. "Let me touch you. I'm begging."

Kronos' eyes flashed, and he kissed me, keeping his hips away from me. I exhaled, too angry to respond to the touch of his lips, and he bit me, hard. I cried out, and Kronos pressed against me with his entire body. He held my lip in his mouth, but it hadn't broken the skin yet. I could feel the lip starting to swell with the blood rushing to the broken capillaries under his teeth. An ounce more of pressure and the skin would split.

Kronos released me with his mouth, biting his way to my earlobe. "Do you want to repeat that?"

"Which part?" I asked, trying not to wince. He began moving his hips against me. Humping teasingly. The fear didn't subside, but neither did the raging erection. I met his thrusts, unable to stop myself, and after a moment, unwilling to either. My body betrayed me, and I accepted it. Kronos' tongue touched my swollen lip, working itself into the pain. My body trembled, parting my lips for him. His fingers dug into ass, through my jeans. I grunted, and then groaned as Kronos bit my neck.

"Beg," Kronos said.

"Please," I said, without hesitation. I closed my eyes, moving my jaw.

Kronos laughed, but then dropped to his knees. It surprised me, but I fight as Kronos yanked down my jeans. He took over, undoing them and yanked them past my hips.

The mouth over me was all contrition, but I knew it was an act. I kept my fingers dug into his scalp, just in case. This was how Mulder and I finally consummated our relationship. One more brawl in the alley way and suddenly Mulder was on his knees in front of me tearing at my clothes to get them off.

I leaned back against the wall he had shoved me on, and closed my eyes. I could smell him before me, and it mixed with the leather from my jacket and my own excitement. It was a drug. I groaned as Kronos took me all the way down his throat and moved his muscles against me. I couldn’t take much more, another couple seconds and I was going to come.

I couldn’t stop the grunt as Kronos yanked back as far as he could and still have me in his mouth. His hand, slick with his own spit worked over me as his tongue played with my glans. It was too much. I came, shuddering.

Kronos waited until I finished, and stood up a heartbeat later. I moved my shoulders, having the presence of mind to do up my jeans, but not much else. My entire body felt like an abused nerve ending and I didn’t want to know how red my face was.

"Come to bed," Kronos ordered. I was far too tired to do anything but lay there, no matter what Kronos had planned.

Kronos tried breaking me, but I was too tired to care. The only thing I really felt was the bites on the back of my neck and shoulders, but I had survived worse. I gritted my teeth as his mouth locked over the back of my neck and he bit me, tearing at my neck. He wouldn’t let me shift my hips to make the angle any easier, and he tore at me.

 

His hands pressed me against his bed and the sudden friction against my cock made me jerk. Kronos laughed in my ear. "You’ve had your fun, little cub. Now you have to take it."

I grunted into the pillow. Kronos’ fingers dug into my hips. The more violent he slammed against me with his hands still pinning me down, the more friction built against me and I stretched out under him, completely accepting.

The door opened and Methos walked in. Kronos’ weight shifted on me as he turned to the door, but he didn’t stop or speak. He grunted once more and then collapsed against me. I moaned in frustration, but with him pinning me down, I couldn’t move.

Kronos panted in my ear for a long moment, and then got off me. "Do you want him, brother? He’s still primed."

"I don’t think so," Methos said. He looked straight at me, and blinked, once. I got off the bed, ignoring my erection, and Methos closed the door behind me. I heard it lock.

It wasn’t until I heard that click that I realize how much shit I was in. These men didn’t intend to let me go and Mulder would be home on Friday. This wasn’t a game. I had three days to get back to him.

I slept on the couch that night with my hand wrapped around my cock for security.

 

 

Kronos woke me up with a kick. I sat up, irritable over being woken so early, and turned my head as Kronos went to kiss me. He noticed the change, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That can’t be modesty, little cub."

"When are you going to let me go?" I asked, standing up. It was cold in the morning, and I was still naked. Kronos watched me go into the bathroom, but didn’t follow me in until I strapped on the false arm.

"You aren’t going anywhere," Kronos said, and looked at the newly attached arm to unnerve me.

I stood up to him. "Friday I am back in the States," I said. I had wanted my voice harsher, but that was all I was going to get.

Kronos backhanded me. I landed against the sink, and took a moment to glance at my reflection. The single drop of blood on my lips set off just how dark my eyes were. "Friday I am back in the States," I repeated, looking at him in the mirror.

He moved behind me. "Over my corpse, little cub," he said, kicking my legs apart. His eyes wouldn’t let go of mine in the reflection.

I lashed out, throwing my body weight back, but Kronos accepted it and slammed me back against the sink. I had to grip onto the white porcelain to keep my balance as Kronos undid his jeans. It didn’t matter to him at that moment what the hell I wanted, and the first cold tentacle of fear wrapped around my belly.

"Wait," I said, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "You’ll tear me apart," I said. Kronos just looked at me blankly, and I looked away first. "Please," I whispered. I suddenly had this insight that he had heard a lot of men begging.

He smiled again, but it did nothing but bare his teeth, feral and possessive. I stared down at his chin to avoid eye contact and bowed my shoulders slightly, letting him feel the victory. He left me by the sink, for a moment, and it was a test to see if I would move. There was no place to run to, and it would just make it worse by trying. I had been fucked dry before, once, and never, ever wanted that experience repeated. I’d bled for hours afterwards and hurt for days.

Hair conditioner. The coconut smell hit me as the lid flipped. It was better than nothing. I spread my legs a little more as Kronos pushed his fingers inside me. "I had hoped you’d be more fun than this, little cub. You had the right idea in the beginning. You don’t want me to tire with you so quickly."

I refused to look at him, and almost climbed onto the sink as he poked me again. His nails raked against me as a reminder of how quickly he could make me bleed.

"Bend him over so I may have him, too," Methos said.

I jumped, and my muscles clenched against Kronos. He slapped me hard enough to sting, and continued slowly working his fingers inside me. I wanted to scream at the both of them, but stood still and took it. They had allowed me to play with them, but I was nothing more than a toy. Kronos backed away from me for a moment and I got down on my hands and knees without being told to.

Methos wouldn't look at me as I went down on him. It hurt to keep my eyes up to look at him, so I stared at his belly and let the two men fuck each other through me. It didn't last very long, at least. Kronos got off me first, and Methos had the decency to wipe off my face. I caught his wrist.

"Clothes," I said, not wanting to wear the filthy jeans I had.

Methos removed my hand, delicately as if he didn't want to be touched by me. I didn't know where the anger was coming from. I still had the taste of his come in the back of my throat. He left me on the floor and I waited a second before starting the shower. The conditioner in my ass made me feel more opened and exposed, but it took a lot of effort to wash it out of me.

The water was cool as I finally turned it off. Steam covered the mirror, but a fresh pair of faded blue jeans and an old sweater lay folded over the sink.

Methos and Kronos weren't in the main room. I crossed to the door, checking the obvious. It was locked from the inside and the security system engaged. There was no getting out by just wishing it done. Damn it. I searched for an hour, but found nothing more high tech than a steak knife to open the door. I was still working on it when the bedroom door opened up.

"Going somewhere?" Methos asked, moving behind me. Kronos entered the room.

I turned around, holding the steak knife in front of me. It wasn't much but I had killed people with less. A stab through the back of the neck would kill just about anything. "Trying to," I said.

"Put the knife down, Alex," Methos said, reasonably. "If you don't, you are going to be the only one who gets hurt."

 

I backed up as much as I could, keeping the knife out. "Don't be stupid," Methos said. I could tell he was beginning to get angry. His eyes narrowed and the hand held out to grab my knife was beginning to shake. The bedroom door opened again and Kronos came out.

Methos took advantage of my looking away for a second, but he misjudged my reflexes. I jumped back, all slitting his wrist. He swore; I had cut him on an angle and pretty much cut his arm open. The blood pumped between his fingers, but as I backed away from Kronos, Methos reached behind him and pulled out his gun.

"Don't shoot him," Kronos said, keeping his voice reasonable.

"Bastard cut me," Methos growled. He aimed the gun at me, but I must not have got him as bad as I thought. The blood running unstopped down his hand seemed to slow down.

"You'll live," Kronos said, smiling slightly. "I need him."

"For what?" Methos snarled.

"A watchdog. He can see them, they won't see him," Kronos said, holding out his hand again.

All of this was happening to fast. I couldn't look away from Methos' wrist, which hardly bled at all now. I knew I had caught him. I could have sworn I felt the serrated edge touch on bone. But Methos was shaking off the last of the pain like the knife had just glanced off him. Kronos grabbed the knife from me as I stared, and then something heavy came down over the back of my head. I fell forward and then nothing.

 

 

I woke up to a splitting headache. My back was flat against something soft, but the material against my palms didn't feel like bedding. A couch, then. I didn't move as the world slowly turned once and then righted itself.

A gun hit my belly. I half sat up, startled, and grabbed it quickly. "You any good with that?" Methos asked.

I nodded, checking the magazine. It was fully loaded. I looked at him, confused, slamming it back in place.

Methos flashed his wrist to me. There wasn't a mark on it. I opened my mouth, trying to form the question. What, how and why were the obvious beginnings, but after that I didn't know what to say. This was Mulder's field, not mine. I moved my mouth again, but then made a decision to close it.

Methos nodded. "Good choice."

I looked at him, putting this in perspective. I had seen some pretty weird shit, this was just one more. It didn't matter what, how or why. All that mattered was Mulder's plane arriving the day after next and I was here and not there. I pushed up

"What do you want?" I asked again, feeling numb. There was nothing else to say.

"Obedience," Methos said. "Nothing more. Who is it?"

 

I looked at him.

"Friday man. The reason you're risking your life annoying Kronos and me."

I shook my head. "No one."

"I don't believe that."

"And I don't care what you believe," I snapped.

Methos moved into my space. I had the gun, he had his bare hands, but I did nothing to stop him from wrapping them around my throat. "Kronos is mine," he hissed, moving over me. His breath touched my cheek.

I opened my mouth to argue that I'd never wanted Kronos to begin with, but the hands slacked off and Methos backed away from me. He continued as if he hadn't just attempted to kill me. "If you feel the same about this no one as I do Kronos, we might come to an agreement."

I nodded, holding my throat.

Methos whipped his head around, and got off the couch a moment before Kronos entered the room. "Get up," he ordered me. Methos turned around, grabbing his jacket from the end of the couch and threw it on.

Methos unlocked the door, punching in the code. I tried watching him, but he was too quick with his body. "Out," he ordered.

"Brother?" Kronos asked, coming up behind us.

"Waiting for you, brother," Methos said, turning his head. Kronos kissed him, and pressed up against him. They both had their eyes closed, so I bolted.

I had thought I almost made it, when the weight tackled me from behind. Methos landed over me, and we fell. My breath was knocked from me, and Methos sat on my shoulders and held me down for Kronos to trot up. "That was really stupid, Alex," Methos said, pulling my head back with his hand over my forehead.

I tried swallowing, but it hurt too much. "Names, dates, places. I can give you anything you need to know, and if I don't know it, I can get it," I said.

"Do you think you can bargain your way out of this?" Methos asked, and moved against my shoulder blades. I pressed my head against the ground, waiting for the bullet. "He's never going to want to stay," Methos said, yanking me to my feet instead. "You can't tame this one."

Kronos backhanded me, and after I regained my balance, only Methos holding onto me kept me from tearing at him. Kronos shook his head, obviously disappointed. "Shoot him and put him in the trunk," he said. "We'll dispose of him after the meeting."

"Absolutely not," Methos snapped. "I’m not getting the interior cleaned again. Blood stinks and it attracts the flies."

Kronos' face darkened in anger, but Methos kept his grip on me and wouldn't budge. "Then throw him the fucking trunk and we'll shoot him later."

Methos nodded at that, and didn't even seem to notice the fact that I was kicking and screaming. He manhandled me until a lucky elbow caught him in the throat, but before I could press my advantage, Kronos moved to me. I heard the thunk before feeling the pain, and then nothing but a sickening fall.

I woke up again on the highway, with the numbing drone coming from all around me. The air was already stale, and I suppose my kicking didn't help any. If the car stopped, they were going to shoot me. If the car didn't stop, I was going to suffocate. Shit fucking hell, I hate being in these kind of situations.

I forced myself to calm down, and lying still let me feel the slight breeze against the sweat of my face. So I wasn't going to suffocate. It was just going to feel like I was suffocating until they shot me. Yes, this was a fucking improvement. I kicked the trunk one more time, and then focused on getting ready to attack once the trunk opened. And if that didn't work, the second plan was to bleed over as much of the interior as possible.

The car stopped, and I tensed, waiting. And then waited. And waited. And waited. The sun beat down on the dark car, and I was suddenly more afraid of being cooked than shot. I banged against the trunk one more time, but didn't have the energy to do much damage to it. The air became syrupy as my lungs struggled to reuse what little oxygen remained. The sweat poured off me, dampening my hair enough that I could have rung it dry.

When the lid opened I was too thrilled to have that blast of cold air touch me to remember that the guy opening the door did so to shoot me. I would have kissed either one of them before being pumped full of lead.

Methos stood over me, alone, and then slowly extended his hand to help me out. The dizziness of the dehydration made me sit back against the car, but Methos looked like he'd be willing to give me a second to recover before shooting me.

He still didn't speak. I studied him, hard, but didn't realize the expression was grief until he took a shaky breath. "I see you in Paris again and I'll kill you."

Kronos was dead. How or why I didn't know, but he was gone. I wasn't about to feel sad for the psychopath, but the way Methos closed the trunk and went to walk around the car made me suddenly think of Mulder, and what I would do to protect him. I touched his arm, trying to swallow with a dry mouth. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling ridiculous.

"Go back to your nobody, Krycek."

I took a step away from him, still expecting the bullet. It never came. Not with the second step, or the hundredth. Eventually I stopped counting.

 

 

It took me an extra day to get the proper documentation together, and scrape up enough favours to pay for my ticket out of Paris. I wasn't sad to see it go. Mulder's plane landed two hours after mine, and I timed it so that I met him back at the apartment.

 

The next morning, I went through the Paris newspapers carefully. Mulder wandered out of the bedroom and kissed me on the top of my head, not even noticing until he was trying to read French for the first little bit. "What are you looking for?" he asked.

"World Cup scores," I said, not looking at him.

He nodded, but gave me my privacy. I found it on one of the back pages. A beheaded body found in an abandoned submarine base. A janitor in a submarine reported seeing two more men with swords, but the one who had done the beheading had vanished into thin air. The man had been dismissed for drinking on the job and the search was still on for the killer.

Mulder moved up behind me, kissing the back of my neck. "You're tense," he said, massaging my shoulders. I flinched for a moment as he went to touch what was left of my arm, and he moved away from it. "Come to bed. I haven't seen you for a long time."

I grabbed his wrist. "Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I...uh..."

"Krycek?"

"I miss you when you go," I said.

Mulder glanced to the newspaper, back to me, and then squeezed my shoulder.

The End


End file.
